The Jewel of His Collection Read Free Page B

belly from his eyes, but if she took off her stockings and garter belt first, that would buy her some extra time.
    Before she’d done more than reach under the slip, Carlisle held up a hand. “No.”
    Pausing, Violet glanced up at him. “No?”
    “That’s not how this works, Miss Fabre,” he corrected. “I would prefer you to undress from the outside in.”
    “You didn’t make any rules about what order I went in,” she reminded him.
    “Which is why I’m setting rules now.” Carlisle’s face was calm, but his eyes stormed against her argument.
    “You can’t change the rules halfway through.” Violet folded her arms across her chest as much for additional coverage as out of pique.
    “You can’t change rules that never existed in the first place. The camisole and slip come next,” he said, his face brooking no protest.
    Violet protested anyway. “You said I could stop at any time.”
    “And you may. However, I don’t think that ten paintings will make for a particularly impressive exhibit.” That was the true crux of the matter. The paintings belonged to Carlisle, which meant that he had all the power in this situation. Since it was his art, he got to make the rules.
    Fighting the impulse to stomp her foot like a child, Violet grabbed the hem of her camisole and yanked it over her head, knocking her curls loose in her carelessness. She could hear the clatter of hairpins hitting the floor and growled to herself as she tossed the camisole to the floor and swiped her hair out of her eyes. “Happy now?”
    Carlisle’s jaw tightened. “Yes, thank you, Miss Fabre.”
    Violet sucked in her stomach and tried to stand tall. Erect posture was slimming. The one advantage to gaining weight was that her bust had also become more generous, and she hoped that Carlisle was too busy looking at her breasts to notice the rest of her. Grinding her teeth, she pushed her slip down over her hips and kicked it away, staring up at the sun shining through the skylight so she wouldn’t have to watch him look at her for the first time.
    “A garter belt,” he murmured. “You’re full of surprises.”
    It had taken her a little while to figure out how to work the fiddly little clasps, but once she did, Violet quite liked the result. The lacy garters hid her upper thighs fairly well and the belt helped hold in the bulge of her stomach. It wasn’t as comfortable as wearing her usual control top pantyhose, but for an additional two paintings, she was willing to sacrifice a bit of comfort.
    “Make your choices,” Carlisle said, a gravelly edge to his voice.
    Conscious of his eyes on her, Violet walked as swiftly as she could without letting anything bounce to two more paintings and pulled off their tags. Now that she could choose either blue or yellow tags, she had almost the entire gallery at her disposal save for five paintings that even untried eyes would recognize as being the jewels of the collection. Four of the paintings had purple tags, and one wasn’t tagged at all. Swallowing hard, she tried not to think about the implications of that.
    Resuming her position in front of Carlisle, she tried to figure out the best way to get her stockings off. If she were home alone, she’d simply bend over, but doing that would either give him a look straight down her bra, or if she turned around, a far too good look at her ass. Considering that she was in the middle of a strip show, modesty was probably ridiculous, but she hadn’t yet decided if she was planning to go all the way. He had told her that she was free to stop whenever she wanted after all.
    “Okay,” she muttered, padding over to the bench he was sitting on and placing her foot on the end. Immediately, Carlisle scooted to the opposite end, giving her more space.
    “We agreed on a six foot distance,” he reminded her when she gave him a quizzical look.
    “So we did,” she agreed. She was taking her clothes off for him, and Carlisle was strictly following his own